


A Christmas Miracle

by heyitsdia0



Series: Quick-writes [4]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A (literal) Christmas miracle, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Happy Ending, One Shot, Other, POV Outsider, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), in the bookshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyitsdia0/pseuds/heyitsdia0
Summary: Peter wants snow for Christmas. Now it’s Christmas Eve, and no snow has come. He’s stuck outside a boring old bookshop, waiting for his parents. He’s pretty sure nothing can help him now. Unless...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Quick-writes [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693534
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	A Christmas Miracle

Peter looked up at the dreary sky. His mum and dad were inside an old bookshop, searching for some dumb book they could sell on E-Bay.

This was Peters’ parents' jobs. Selling old books online for a high profit, with little cost to them. They thought it to be marvelous. He thought it was horrid. 

He shivered. It was Christmas Eve, and there was no snow. He couldn’t believe it. He’d done everything he could to wish for it right - first, he wished to Santa. Then he poked one of the elf decorations his mother put up each year (it was her way of celebrating the season) and asked  _ it _ to ask Santa. 

Well, by then he was out of options. His friend Emily told him to pray to God, but Peter wasn’t religious. At the astute age of eight, he was beginning to grow tired of the whole prayer business. He had tried it before, when his grandmother had gotten sick. Nothing happened. She just stayed the same, in her same old state. 

Ever since he could remember (which wasn’t that far back at all) she’d been sick. He’d tried a lot to make her better, and praying was something he’d done quite a bit. 

And what had it done for anyone? Nothing. 

So this year, when December rolled around, he decided not to pray for snow. He’d go the natural route and ask Santa.

Well, Santa hadn’t replied yet. Time was running out. He watched as inside the ancient, towering shop, an older man approached his parents. He looked nice, dressed well - like his teacher. In his hands were two cups of something - he said something, something that looked like cocoa. Peter watched in awe as his parents paused, then accepted.

His parents did  _ not _ drink cocoa. They never had!

“What are you doing out here, kid?” A voice asked from behind. Startled, Peter turned. He saw a lanky man standing there, dressed in a red jumper, red as his hair, and dark, dark slacks. He looked very thin, his whole appearance like a viper. Behind  _ him _ was a car, the lights beaming through the bleak, foggy evening - it was a very old car actually, and he watched as the man snapped his fingers.

The car’s lights went off. Peter blinked. He didn’t know cars could do that.

“I don’t bite,” the man said. “Well, I could, but that’s a bit gross, innit?”

Peter nodded. “Yes. It is.”

“Are your parents around?”

He nodded, and looked to the shop, pointing. The man went ‘Ah’ and nodded too. 

“Shame they keep you here, like a dog.”

“I wanted to stay out,” Peter said triumphantly, puffing out his chest. Beyond his sunglasses, the man’s eyebrows raised. 

“See, it has to snow tonight. And I  _ have _ to see it.” 

“Snow? Why’s that?”

“It has to. It would be so perfect, because...erm…”

“It’s okay,” the man coaxed, kneeling down in front of him. They were at eye level now. “You can say whatever you need. I don’t judge.”

Peter nodded. “My nan is sick. And she has to see the snow tonight. And I want to see it too.”

The man’s features turned soft. “I see,” he said. “You wait here, okay?”

Peter nodded. He stayed put, watching. The red-haired man walked in to the bookshop, waving his hands in front of the older man who had given his parents the cups of probably-cocoa. The first man nodded, as if in agreement, and ushered the lanky man out. Then his parents dropped the book they were looking at, and they too walked out. 

The lanky man flashed a fake smile at his parents, saying something about the book. 

“Oh, it just...well, actually, I don’t know why we stopped looking at it,” his father said, confused. “Marie, do you know why we-”

“You know, it was probably for a good reason,” the lanky man snapped. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped, right?”

Peter's mother nodded. “He’s right, Harold. I think we ought to invest in that lake house you were talking about.”

“A lake house? When did I mention a lake house?”

“You said that we were going to rent it out and stop selling those books,” his mother answered mechanically. Immediately his father blinked, then nodded.

“Right, I do think I said something like that.” 

“Yep, that sounds right,” the lanky man added, as if on edge. Then he pushed them to their car, including Peter, who they hadn’t noticed until then. 

“Oh, Petey!” His mother exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s so nice to see you!”

Peter accepted her hug, pleased. She hadn’t hugged him like this in ages. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lanky man smile to himself, before waving, then snapped his fingers.

He was gone.

When they got inside the car, his parents let him choose the radio station. Naturally he chose the Christmas channel, and out of nowhere his father began to sing along to Bing Crosby. 

As they reached their house, the music stopped, but when they entered the energy they had faced in the car had seemed to follow them. 

There, in the living room, was a figure Peter hadn’t been expecting, but was so happy to see: his nan.

“Peter!” She stood up -  _ she had recognized him!  _ \- and wrapped her arms around him, peppering his forehead with kisses. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he whispered. “I love you, nan.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you dear - and Marie! My god, I could have sworn you were out! It is so wonderful to have the family together.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Harold murmured. “I-I can’t recall when, actually. Funny, isn’t it?”

“You know, I think we’re all just having a case of deja vu,” Marie said, smiling. “Oh, would you look at that?”

She pointed to the window where Peter's grandmother had been sitting by. He walked over to it; his mouth dropped open in surprise. 

There was snow falling on the ground. 

He turned to his family, and then back to the window. It was real. This was real.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Somebody, whoever did this...thank you.”

And as he was swept away by his father and mother and grandmother, enveloped in an enveloping hug, he could make out a voice sincerely calling to him:  _ You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, kid.  _

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Christmas fic. Hope you enjoy! (And I know the title is unoriginal I couldn’t think of anything)


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